Brain Harvest

It was 3:00pm when mother and daughter soared past the first exhibit. The nameplate read “Michael Kustich.”

“What is a Michael?” asked the young fly.

“He looks like an intern,” said her mother.

“Look at the little intern! He’s so cute!”

The flies moved on to the next human, a much larger man labeled “Dennis Bilbee.”

“Is that cubicle big enough for him?” asked the young fly. “I wish he had more space to run free.”

“By the looks of him,” said her mother, “he doesn’t much like running.”

In the third exhibit, a female, “Jenny Crebrink,” could be seen bouncing her knees up and down and rattling her fingers on a can and mug-covered desktop.

“I like this one,” said the young fly. “She’s so active.”

The fourth cubicle was empty, so they landed on a glass wall in the corner. “As you can see,” said the mother fly, “this species gets a larger enclosure.”

“I want to see his face, but he won’t turn around,” said the young fly, who tried buzzing the glass to get his attention.

“Don’t buzz the glass, honey,” said her mother. “They don’t like it when you do that.”

The flies launched themselves from the glass to the ceiling’s paneled lighting. “Have you had enough?” asked the mother fly.

“Just one more,” said her daughter.

They flew to the last cubicle, where a woman named “Sheryl Gibbons” was clicking between spreadsheets and Facebook. “Why does she keep going back and forth like that?” asked the young fly. “It’s like she’s in a trance or something.”

“That’s a sign of stress,” explained her mother.

At 3:25pm, the pair of flies departed. Although they had spent a considerable portion of their lifespan in the office, it felt like nothing.